


Nothing

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Despair, Lost Love, M/M, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hate him so much because he knows that you can’t give up on Hinata, that you’re still consumed by self-loathing for losing him, that you love, love, love Hajime – and you despise Kamukura with all your soul for taking his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing

Of all the coincidences in the world, getting locked up with Kamukura Izuru is quite frankly the last one you expected. You can’t even find it in yourself to be shocked; your stomach, your throat, and your head, too – everything just throbs with pain. You fall, scraping old wounds over the solid ground. The walls seem endlessly icy, and the air frigid when you’re on your knees before him.

Footsteps vanish beyond the thin walls, leaving you both alone. You feel like a helpless child again.

Your scars burn under your clothes, your breathing shaky, distressed, but minutes pass and Kamukura doesn’t even bat an eyelash at you. He stares on, out the tiny window, lost in some unknown world of thought, and you suddenly yearn to clutch him – scream at him, teeth bared, urge him to _give Hinata back._

But you don’t.

You calm down.

You accept it, like you’ve accepted every lie and fortune and tragedy thrust your way, like you’ve accepted everything that you did and didn’t deserve, but accepting it doesn’t stop you from sweating. Doesn’t stop your hands from growing clammy, your hair sticking to your forehead. Doesn’t stop you from wanting to tear yourself apart, to turn back to a time where you simply didn’t exist, to spare yourself this lifelong heartache and misery.

When you look at him, when you see the shell of Hinata Hajime, you want desperately to break down and cry.

(He wouldn’t care, anyway. Wouldn’t console you like Hinata would – wouldn’t ask you ‘what’s wrong’ or tell you to ‘stop being ridiculous’. He’d probably hate you. Loathe you. Maybe he’d even laugh.)

(Kamukura doesn’t ever laugh, though. His expression remains unmoving, and foreign. His nose doesn’t pinch like Hinata’s did, his jaw doesn’t clench like Hinata’s did, his eyes never light up with any fleeting feeling; he’s almost a doll. Despair’s doll.)

(You hate it. You hate him.)

(He disgusts you.)

(And yet his talent fills you with desire, so much poisonous desire, and _so much envy._ )

The first day had been the worst.

You grow numb after that, always smiling, hiding every broken sob or destructive thought that crossed your mind. You like to curl in a corner, and laugh until your throat is hoarse. It makes you feel a little better about how low you’ve sunk now. It makes you feel better about Junko’s defeat, and still, your thirst for more. Your reckless will to give up your beating heart for hope and hope alone.

But your days soon fill with silence when you’re with Kamukura. He doesn’t like it when you laugh, or talk, or breathe, in general. It’s a forced silence, because he brushes all your words off as ‘irrelevant’, ‘boring’ or ‘unnecessary’, and that’s fine. It’s fine. You know, already, that your entire existence revolves around those three pathetic words, even if you’d discard them in a heartbeat for the sake of hope. For the sake of overcoming despair.

However, you briefly wonder why you wouldn’t – didn’t – for the sake of Hinata.

(If you had tried, would things have turned out differently?)

(You squeeze your dead hand, and purse your lips. There’s no answer for that now, not when you’re still after the sight of the world’s ultimate hope, not when Kamukura sits in front of you with that familiar face, yet a cold, uncaring stare.)

(You're a little sick for thinking it, but you wonder what he'd do if you kissed him.)

(Would muscle memory take over, would Hinata's body remember you, or has Kamukura truly broken into him - possessed his entire being?)

(You don't want to find out.)

(Learning the answer to that would shatter Hinata's entire existence in your mind, and you're too delicate to keep throwing yourself in the deep end like this.)

Your curiosity is insatiable though, so you start to blabber when his mood is not so bad.

Maybe he'd grow accustomed to you, and adapt. 

(Maybe you could learn to love him, instead.)

(You doubted it.)

(You severely doubted it.)

But you think life must truly be bland lived in forced silence, and maybe your pitiful existence could brighten it even just a little, maybe talking to him would take your mind off of things – but you regret it, of course, when he starts the one and only conversation he will ever start with you willingly. The conversation you'd rather avoid until the end of time.

Looking back, you almost wished he had just kept his mouth shut for good. 

“He loved you, you know.” You see the words more than you hear them – a stream of white and gold flashes in the hollows of your eyelids, and nothing reminds you more of Hinata Hajime than that moment. Hinata Hajime and his fierce, glittering hope. Hinata Hajime and his love for you, and how it tore you both to pieces. How you want him back, safe in your arms, warm body pressed against your own and lips against your ear, telling you you'll be okay, and it'll all get better. You're reminded of how dearly you miss him, and how you didn't deserve him, but he stayed anyway.

At least, until he let the Academy poke into his brain and wreck him inside out.

He - the voice of Hinata, but the face of Hope's Peak Academy's first and final doll - speaks again, ever colder. “You did know that, didn’t you?”

Kamukura’s lips are tight, his eyes calculating. You’re not sure what he’s looking at when he stares like that, but it makes you feel a little self-conscious. “Komaeda.” He goads, voice flat. “Answer.”    

You sigh. The energy seeps out of your bones, along with all the rest your own emotions. “I know. I did know. Of course I knew.”

“He loved you immensely,” Kamukura says, unblinking. He’s so distant – so unlike Hinata that you know what’s coming before he even says it: “But _I don’t_.”

Ah. There it is, you think. There’s the good and the bad – all the good and the bad in the world, when it comes down to you and Hinata and Kamukura – strung together with lazy stitches into one, heart shattering sentence. You feel like dying again.

But maybe you’re being over-dramatic.

It really shouldn’t surprise you as much as it did.

 “I know, I, I never expected you to, I don't care, it doesn't matter,” you reply breathlessly, carelessly swinging a metaphorical dagger through your chest. “We were never – you and I – we’re too different. It’s fine. I know already.”

And maybe Kamukura’s gaze softens a fraction, but you’d never be able to tell.

“Despair awaits on the horizon.” He diverts the topic almost out of duty, standing, the metallic clatter in his pockets the only sound giving away his movements. “Don’t get in my way. We finish what Enoshima Junko began.”

_What Enoshima Junko destroyed,_ you think. You’re mad, you really are, but you swallow your pride and all your morals as you nod. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m excited to see the finale – and the victory of the universe’s one absolute _good_.”

“Hope?” Kamukura drones. “Forget about it. There is no hope left.”

There may be a double meaning in the way he looks pointedly at you, but you stubbornly ignore it.

“Hinata Hajime is gone.” He whispers, as, to your surprise, the door clicks open. His head bows, tendrils of hair slumping over his face as a gesture of surrender. There's something in his tone that strikes a chord in you, something a stretch from sad, but you don't think anything of it (you don't care about him, you don't care about the one that took Hinata Hajime away from you) as he continues quietly, “Forget about him. His existence means nothing. Your... love means nothing.”

You can’t fight back – can’t object. You smile so hard it hurts, and watch him get escorted out. And seeing his back, turned away from you, silhouette holding no resemblance to Hinata’s own, drives it in deep.  

_Your love means nothing._

He’s right, and you hate him all the more for it; you hate him so much because he knows that you can’t give up on Hinata, that you’re still consumed by self-loathing for losing him, that you love, love, love Hajime – and you despise Kamukura with all your soul for taking his place.

You hate him so much, because in an ideal world, you’d hear that gravelly tone murmur something sweet before it goes. Something hopeful, something promising, something _warm._ But this is not an ideal world, and Hinata could never make up such a stupid lie.

He’s gone.

Only Kamukura remains.

And Kamukura doesn’t love you, nor you him. Kamukura is not Hinata, and you cannot love this ghost like you loved him – even if something in you pleads for one last chance.

Even if sometimes you think you see Hinata in Kamukura’s empty eyes, screaming for you to set him free.

Hinata is gone, you tell yourself, over and over.

He’s not coming back.

He’s never coming back.


End file.
